


Christ Haunted

by ObeyDontStray



Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: Backstory, Character Death, F/M, Family, Original Characters - Freeform, Southern Gothic, Southern Stereotypes, adopted family, heavy religious themes, mentions of Gullah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-11-22 09:18:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11377209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObeyDontStray/pseuds/ObeyDontStray
Summary: Teenaged Jim Hopper spent several hot summers in South Carolina with his favorite Aunt and brought home a whole new outlook on life. Returning to the south after a tragedy, Hopper and Joyce stumble into a decades old mystery. Secrets run deep in the old south.





	1. Saved

**Author's Note:**

> Filling my desperate need for a Jim Hopper Southern gothic au. And I live in South Carolina. And have been a member of baptist, pentacostal, and non denominational churches. Pentacostal are by far the funnest, in my humble opinion. Write about whatcha know, am I right? So here's Hopper's life with dear Aunt Delia. Read and comment pwease?

Jim Hopper wasn't the same after the summer he turned thirteen. For one, he had a thick southern accent for two months after he came back to Indiana. Spending all summer in South Carolina had changed his speech. And he'd grown increasingly withdrawn, quiet. 

"What's your deal, anyway? Someone traumatize you over break or something?" His neighbor Joyce enquired over lunch on day at school. 

"No. Just a little homesick, I guess." He replied, pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate. He had a taste for fried chicken today so badly he could taste it. And sweet tea. He'd grown quite fond of it over the last two summers at Aunt Delia's house. All the southern soul food he'd eaten during the summer was making his middle soft, drawing more jeers than his acquired accent. 

"But you are home. And what's with this?" She asked, reaching for his neck to grab the wooden crucifix that hang from the leather cord. He snatched it from her hand and tucked it inside his shirt. "I got saved and baptized."

Joyce's laugh was loud and boisterous. "Saved? You really believe all that bullshit?" "Joyce!" He fussed. "It's not bull- it's not hogwash." She laughed again. "Hogwash? Do you even speak english anymore or is it all just hick talk?" He rolled his eyes, feeling the strain of being her best friend and spending a whole summer apart. Suddenly it felt like they were from different continents. 

"I knew you wouldn't understand." But it still hurt. Her eyes softened. "Did they brainwash ya or something?" He shook his head. "Aunt Delia said I won't get into Heaven unless I have Jesus in my heart. But I don't feel no different." He admitted. "They say Hell is hot. Hotter than a Southern summer, and that's hot." 

"What did you expect?" She asked. "I dunno. Some sort of feeling. I imagined like something warm and fuzzy. The people in church act possessed when they catch the Holy Ghost." Joyce looked at him as if his head had suddenly grown three sizes larger. "Catch the Holy Ghost? Like with a baseball glove?" She was enjoying teasing him and he knew it. He stood abruptly and emptied his tray in the trash can and returning it before gathering his books and leaving. She caught up to him, her half eaten candy bar and open can of Coke in her hand. 

"Hop! Hop! I'm sorry!" She called as he strode outside to the courtyard, headed for the back of the school. When he slumped against the wall and slid down she followed suit. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pick on you. Was it a big choice? Did she pressure you into it?" 

"No, I wanted to do it." Joyce tapped a cigarette out of her pack and offered it to him. "Nah, I quit." "What?!" She exclaimed, sticking the cigarette between her lips and cupping her hand to light it. "Jimmy Hopper quit smoking?" "It's not real Christian like." He replied. "Wow, you're really on this holy roller kick, aren't you." "Quit it Joyce." He scolded. "I gave up a lot of things this summer." 

"Like what?" She asked out of curiosity. "I'm never going to drink. The Preacher said it was a sin." 

"What about my favorite sin?" Joyce asked raising her eyebrows and he looked at her with an unknowing expression. "Sex, ya dummy." She had kissed Lonnie Byers shortly after her twelfth birthday and considered herself more experienced than everyone else. "I'm uh, saving for marriage. I signed a vow in sunday school." "Oh my goooood!" Joyce moaned. "Don't use his name in vain!" He scolded. "I though Jesus was his name and God was his title?" "It is and it isn't. I mean, there's the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. But they're all the same thing. I don't understand it but Auntie said man is not supposed to understand God." 

Joyce rolled her eyes. "They really did brainwash you." "Hey we don't have to be friends anymore if you want to persecute me." He snipped. "Woah woah woah, slow down Jesus. Come down off your cross there." He prickled at the comparison. "Just...just don't talk about that stuff around the others, okay? You'll get a royal ass kicking if you do." 

"I preached a little bit." He informed her. "That's when I really felt saved. All those eyes on me. Everyone listening to me. Standing behind the pulpit. It felt good." Joyce gave him an astonished look. "You preached? You panic every time we have to do spoken reports. "That was before I got saved! Jesus took my fear away." Joyce rolled her eyes for the hundredth time during this conversation.

The bell rung and she stood. He gathered up his books. "Is that a Bible?" She asked, lifting his other school books from his hands. "Auntie calls me Paul. I wanted to read about him." Joyce breathed in deep. "You'd better read that Bible at home. If someone spots it, there's gonna be trouble. 

As they walked the hallway, Lonnie Byers slammed into Jim's shoulder, causing him to drop his books. The Bible fell on top, face down with it's marked and notated pages spread wide. "Why my lands! Is Jimmy Hopper a Jesus geek now?" Lonnie shouted in an exaggerated fake southern accent. A small group gathered around them as Lonnie seized the Bible and tore out a hand full of pages. Lonnie stood a head and a half above Jim, having hit a growth spurt when Jim hadn't. Jim gasped and grabbed at the pages. "Lonnie leave him alone!" Joyce said, protecting her best friend with outspread arms. "You're going to Hell, Lonnie Byers!" Jim yelled. Lonnie chuckled and shoved Joyce aside, socking Jim in the eye. 

In the end both boys and Joyce ended up in the office. Joyce had jumped on Lonnie in Jim's defense, slapping and punching. She vowed to never go out with him again. Called him a sleaze and a loser. Jim declared he'd turn the other cheek, God would punish Lonnie. It was all a giant mess. 

As the year rolled on Jim spoke less and less about his faith. He wore his cross tucked away under his shirt and left his Bible at home, which he never finished reading through. He went back to smoking and drinking, but never forgot his vow of chastity. And Lord, there was plenty of temptation to forget it. Especially when he came home from his summer vacation after his fifteenth birthday and found that Joyce was beginning to fill out into the woman she was growing up to be.


	2. Oh Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim returns to South Carolina in a hurry.

One night when he was eighteen, Jim tossed rocks from his window at Joyce's. When she opened her window tears were running down his face. "Hop what's wrong?"

"Come with me please, I don't wanna go alone." "Go where?" "South Carolina. Auntie is dying and I've got to be there. I have to say goodbye." Joyce nodded. "Give me a few minutes to pack and tell my parents." She replied. He nodded. "Thank you Joyce. I really mean it." 

They hit the road in the middle of the night. She held his shaking hand and didn't protest when he pulled out a tape of sad country music to play. He stayed silent for most of the nine hour driver and Joyce took to counting roadsigns to stay awake. 

They pulled in front of a old Georgia style home and Jim killed the engine. Joyce went to step out and he grabbed her hand, stilling her. "Sit with me? I just need a minute." "Sure." Jim bowed his head, closing his blue eyes. He took a deep breath and seemed to be thinking heavily and Joyce realized he was praying and she hurriedly bowed her head out of respect. His eyes were red when he looked up and stepped from the car. The house was flanked by old oaks dripping with spanish moss and a porch swing blew in the breeze. She had a brief vision of thirteen year old Hop swinging away. He had changed into a dress shirt and jeans before they left and she noticed how nice he looked. 

An elderly lady pulled him into a hug just as soon as he walked in. "She's getting close. She was waiting for you, Paul." She smiled at him. "Thanks Aunt Edith." What's with the Paul thing? She wondered. 

Jim grabbed for Joyce's hand and pulled her towards the upstairs. "Jim maybe I should wait outsi-" "I want you to meet her. And if she dies while I'm- I cam't be alone Joycie." "Shouldn't your family be with you?" "She's waiting for me." He said turning to her. "Please." "I've never seen anyone die before." She said sadly. "Me either." She followed him up the stairs to a white door at the end of the hall. 

The woman in bed was tiny and frail. She reached an aged hand out to him. "Paul!" She smiled weakly. "Auntie! I came as quick as I could!" "My favorite nephew!" She smiled. "Your only nephew. Oh, Auntie, this is my best friend Joyce. I've always wanted you to meet her." The old woman nodded her grey head at Joyce. "Nice to meet you. You're very beautiful." Joyce blushed. "Thank you." 

Jim sat at the woman's bedside, worrying the hem of the brightly woven afghan on her bed. She took his hand, steadying it. "Are you still my good boy, Paul?" He smiled at her. "I'm trying my best, Auntie." "Sing me a song, Jim? You always had the most beautiful voice." He sniffled, eyes watering. "What song, Auntie?" "Angel Band. You know it's my favorite." 

He breathed in deep and leaned back in the chair, still holding her hand. It occurs to Joyce she's never heard him sing before. 

My latest sun is sinking fast, my race is nearly run  
My strongest trials now are past, my triumph has begun  
Oh, come angel band, come and around me, stand  
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings  
To my immortal home  
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings  
To my immortal home

His voice is low and warm, with an emotional thickness to it. She smiles faintly and manages to raise his hand to her mouth to kiss it before laying it back on the bed. "Such a beautiful voice from a beautiful boy." She whispered. He picked the song back up.

Oh, bear my longing heart to Him  
Who bled and died for me  
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin  
And gives me victory

She took a big breath and rattled and suddenly she slipped away. He stood and crossed her hands in her lap, closing her eyes as he continued singing, his voice shaky. 

Oh, come angel band, come and around me, stand  
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings  
To my immortal home  
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings  
To my immortal home

When he finished his song he broke down in tears. Joyce crossed the room to her and out herself between him and the body. He looked up to her with watery eyes before grabbing her around the middle, crying into her t-shirt. She ran a hand through his hair gently. There were no words for comfort in the very moment so she stood silent, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. He cried for a solid thirty minutes before his sobs quieted and Joyce realized her heart was broken for him. He took her hand and closed his eyes. "Dear Heavenly Father, may her journey be swift and may you grant the rest of us the strength to honor her memory. I pray for your wisdom and guidance." 

Downstairs and elderly black woman hugged him tightly. "She's gone Auntie Tilly." She pulled back, holding his hands to look at him. "There's some of her pecan pie in the fridge, we saved a piece just for you Paul." She said in a thick accent Joyce didn't recognize. He gave her a weak smile and let her lead him to the kitchen table. She also pulled out a chair for Joyce. "Thank you." Joyce said quietly. "Oh, Tilly speaks Gullah. Hence her accent." He explained. "Gullah is the culture that was brought over with the slaves. "White boy speaks a little. I taught him." Tilly teased. 

The old lady brought him a big piece of pie with whipped cream on top. With two forks. "In case you wanna share." She said winking at Joyce. He passed a fork to Joyce and together they ate. "She was my best friend." Tilly said wistfully. "And she loved you a lot Paul." Joyce treaded into uncharted territory. "Why do they call you Paul?" Tilly chuckled. "Because he was like the apostle Paul. He became a completely different boy every summer he came down, transitioning to a southern gentleman every time. And when he started to preach, well he was our little apostle. You should see him work a pulpit. He fills pews." "I don't do that anymore, Auntie."

"You should preach at her funeral." "I can't." "Then sing for her." Tilly urged. "She loved it when you sang to her." "I know. I just sang her Angel Band." Tilly nodded woefully. "You sing for her, I'll rally the church band. You two stay at my house until the funeral." 

Tilly's house was a pale blue shotgun style home. Haint blue, he explained. Ghosts were scared of the color and wouldn't enter a home that color. Joyce, having never seen such a house, marveled as they passed from room to room, each connected to the other. "What kind of house is this?" She asked. "A shotgun. If you stand out the front door and shoot, it'll travel through every room to the back door." "Oooooh!" She said, a little bewildered. 

"I only have one guest bed." Tilly said, passing from one bedroom to the next. "No funny business of your Auntie will haunt you fo sho!" Jim laughed and raised the battered silver ring on his ring finger. A purity ring the church had given him years ago. "I promise!" 

He did lie in the arms of his best friend that night however, tears flowing freely down his face. He suffered greatly through the night, tossing and turning. Joyce and Tilly let him sleep in the next day as Tilly taught her how to cook a proper southern breakfast for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never seen a shotgun house in person but I think they're really interesting! But I have seen haint blue. That's a bit of folklore from Gullah culture.


	3. By and by Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auntie Delia's funeral.

Jim was clean shaven and smelling nice in his sharp black dress suit but Joyce had to wonder how he'd survive the day in it. The mercury read eighty eight degrees on Tilly's porch but Joyce swore it was about a hundred and two. She wore a simple dark blue dress that ended just above her knee, about the fanciest thing she owned, and she knew she was going to melt. The heat was heavy, oppressive and she wondered how it could be this hot already at the beginning of summer. How did people live here? Tilly wore an oversized black hat with her black dress and pearls. Joyce tagged along behind as Jim escorted Tilly into the packed church. 

It was moderately beautiful inside with it's polished red velvet seated pews and stained glass windows. A large wooden cross stood backlight behind the pulpit, casting an ominous shadow across it. The pulpit itself surrounded by an array of colorful flowers, dozens of arrangements lined perfectly. When Tilly stepped away to speak to someone Joyce moved to take a back seat but Jim grabbed her hand and lead her to the front pew where he sat next to Aunt Edith. 

Joyce looked around for Jim's parents and didn't see them. It struck her odd that at least his mother didn't show up to her own sister's funeral. When Tilly approached she moved to let the older woman sit by Jim. "No no." Tilly tut tutted. "He needs you. Especially today." She whispered to Joyce. "Especially today." 

"I'm not family, I only met her once before she died....I shouldn't be up here." "He loves you." Tilly informed her. "He needs you as much as he needs his family." "I'm just his friend..." Joyce fretted. Tilly gave her a broad smile. "My dear, even in all his pain he looks at you like you hung the moon." Joyce blinked several times, stunned. 

The coffin was rolled into the room and opened and the family stood, heading to peer inside. Tilly urged Joyce to walk up with him and he reached out for her hand. He was shaking as he walked up to the coffin. 

The old woman lay in a pretty yellow dress with pearls about her neck and one slender wrist, her hands crossed over a worn copy of the Bible. The rouge on her cheeks was subtle, giving her the appearance of still living. Joyce almost expected her to breathe. 

Every muscle in his forearm was tense and Joyce held his hand as he leaned into the coffin to kiss her goodbye. From there he stood aside the coffin with the family, hand gripping Joyce's as people came up to view the body and speak to the family. Many people spoke to she and Jim. Expressing condolences for the dead, sharing brief stories, asking when he and his pretty girl were going to marry. Joyce's skin would fluster and she'd stare at the floor, still shaken by what Tilly had said about him. 

The service started with a prayer and everyone gathering their hymnal books, Jim retrieved one from under his seat and turned to the page that had been specified. The congregation began singing 'I'll Fly Away' lead by the pastor. Joyce peered over his arm at the book and tried her best to keep up. She enjoyed his low singing voice, having recently become acquainted with it the night before. His blue eyes drifted to meet hers and she could feel the hurt there and...something else she couldn't read. 

The congregation sang a few more songs before the preacher called for everyone to sit. He launched into a sermon on being humble, a skill he stressed Delia possessed. She was a humble, strong woman of God. The women around gathered up church programs and began fanning, the heat outside so oppressive it overwhelmed the AC and making it muggy in the church. Jim wiggled out of his overcoat and lay it across the pew between them. The sermon was punctuated by several calls of 'amen!' 'Hallelujah!' and 'Thank ya Jesus!'. Hands raised at random times, palms open and reaching for the cross at the front. 

The preacher put out a call to the altar in front of the casket for anyone unsaved and a few people wandered up. The piano player played 'Amazing Grace' as the small crowd gathered. He spoke over them, approaching each one as others joined to lay on hands. As time wore on people began speaking in tongues, mumbled and yelled declarations in nonsensical speech. The preacher declared that the Holy Spirit was on the move in the building. 

Joyce sat taking in everything with wide eyes and listening intently. The preacher called for anyone with anything weighing on their heart to approach the altar. Jim's grip on her was so tight his skin peeled away from hers when he broke their hold, heading towards the altar. He sunk to his knees, his elbows on the altar as he crossed his hands and bowed his head. The preacher lingered over him, speaking in his ear as Edith and Tilly rushed to his side. 

The moment lasted for what felt like forever to Joyce as she sat watching his back. Edith spoke in tongues over his shoulders as Tilly rubbed her hand across his back. Joyce could see him speaking to the pastor, his body movements and expression intense. He was red eyed when he finally made it back to Joyce. "Come outside with me?" He asked hoarsely and she nodded, letting him lead her through the throng of people to the front doors. 

He leaned against the white clapboard siding and she rubbed his shoulder. "Are you okay? Things are really, really intense in there." She said. Intense she felt was an understatement. "Oh this is normal!" He smiled. "This is like every Sunday, except Auntie is in a box and not her pew." She ran a hand down his arm to take his hand again but he moved it away. In a knee jerk reaction she looked up at him with hurt in her eyes but he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her slim shoulders. She returned the favor, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her head against his chest. 

The casket was rolled through the church doors and out under a tent, preparing for burial. 

"I feel like my heart has been ripped out." He said lowly as he watched the casket go by. She could hear the rumbling of his voice in his chest. She moved a hand to smooth up his damp back. "I know. This is a hard, hard thing. I don't know how much solace it's worth but....I'm here." He pulled back to look at her and cupped her face, studying her features. He moved in closer, his lips hovering inches from hers. She closed her eyes, rising to her tip toes to kiss him. Even with her in heels he was still ridiculously tall. He brushed his lips across hers. 

The church doors opened and he quickly stepped around her, abandoning the contact they had and she swallowed the hurt down, the sudden rejection after the warmth of his lips. She found herself wanting more. To kiss his pain away, to change the look in those sad eyes. 

Men came through the door toting instruments and Jim walked ahead of them, heading for a tent in the graveyard. Joyce took a deep breath and followed, standing just under the edge of the tent and out of the sun. She eyed him warily, trying to decode what their kiss meant, and the step away. The band began setting up their instruments and Jim cleared his throat several times as the congregation began assembling outside. Tilly and Edith joined her and stood at her side.

The guitar and the banjo began playing the low tune and Jim bowed his head as he began singing and the began lowering the casket into the ground. 

 

I was standing by my window,  
On one cold and cloudy day  
When I saw that hearse come rolling  
For to carry my mother away  
Will the circle be unbroken  
By and by, lord, by and by  
There's a better home a-waiting  
In the sky, lord, in the sky  
I said to that undertaker  
Undertaker please drive slow  
For this lady you are carrying  
Lord, I hate to see her go

Joyce watched him with sorrow filled eyes and for the first time since they arrived, she cried for him.


	4. Holy Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim surrenders to temptations.

That night Jim sat on the porch steps, his head in his hands. Joyce stepped down and sat beside him, reaching across his t-shirt clad shoulders to hug him to her. "What do you do for fun here in hell?" She teased. "Let's go for a ride or something. Show me something cool about here. Cause I gotta admit, I ain't as impressed as I thought I'd be. You talk about this place like it's so great." She teased.

Tilly gave him the keys to her deceased husband's truck. An old broad, square cabbed GMC. "Don't get in too much trouble you two!" Tilly said with a smile. Jim held the door for Joyce and slammed it closed behind her as you had to do with the old truck. He popped in a Waylon Jennings tape as he pulled from the driveway. 

"So where we going?" She asked and he shrugged. "Somewhere. Anywhere but here." He replied. 

A ways down the road he stopped at the gas station and told her he'd be right back. He returned with a two full bags. A Pepsi for each of them. Joyce recoiled in disgust when he emptied a small bag of peanuts into his. He shrugged. "What? It's good!" 

He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the bag, breaking the seal with his teeth and tossing the plastic wrap out of the window. "I thought you don't smoke?" Joyce said as he thumped the pack against his palm. "I don't." He replied, shaking one out and placing it between his lips. He offered her one and she took it and watched as he lit his. He passed the lighter over as he inhaled, coughing and sputtering a cloud of smoke. Joyce smiled, amused. "Don't judge me!" He smiled back. 

Before long they were back on the road. Out passing fields of snowy white cotton and dilapidated barns. The moon hung bright and full in the sky and the cool night air rushed in through the barely lowered windows as they smoked. Joyce stole his Pepsi and tried it with the peanuts, deciding it wasn't so bad. They passed a barn with a tin sign the width of the building proclaiming JESUS SAVES. 

He pulled into a dirt road in the woods and followed the winding road to a riverbank. The full moon hung low over the calm river and Jim pulled the truck into park, killing the engine but leaving the radio going. He fished in the other bag and retrieved a bottle of strawberry wine. 

Joyce give him a skeptical look. "What's gotten into you tonight, Holy Roller?" She said, echoing the nickname she had called him for years now. "Hey, might as well live a little before we die, right?" He mused, popping the cork with his pocket knife. He took a big swill of the wine before he passed it to her. 

It was overly sweet with a slight burn of alcohol and she felt her cheeks burn as the warmth spread down her throat to her belly. 

"Thank you-" he said suddenly. "For coming here with me. Means a lot." She passed him the bottle back and pulled his hand into her lap. "I know how much Delia meant to you. How much Tilly means to you." The moon casted deep shadows across his face in the dark truck and he looked older in the shadows. So much older. "I can't stand to see you so heartbroken, Jim."

He popped i. A Percy Sledge tape and when 'Whiter Shade of Pale' began playing she slid across the bench seat till she sat against his leg. She leaned forward and kissed him, soft and slow. He turned to face her, folding his right leg against the back of the seat and she kneeled between his legs, putting her right at eye level with him before she took his face in her hands. "Can I help change that sad look in your eyes? Just for a little while?" She asked and he nodded, reaching up to kiss her again.

His kisses were shy, inexperienced little pecks against her lips and she changed the pace, encouraging him to part his lips and give her access. Her hands found their way to his thick hair to stroke and pull ever so slightly. He was getting better at his kisses, his tongue stroking and caressing hers. 

"You okay?" She asked, thinking of his inexperience and usual unwillingness to even talk about things like they were doing right now. He nodded and she grasped his shoulders. He moved to kiss her jaw and neck, surprising her. "You're talented." She teased. "A natural." He smiled against her neck, making a noise of approval. The growing bulge against her knee where she kneeled between his legs was not unnoticed and she took a risk and slid her hand down to stroke it. He moaned into her mouth. "This okay?" She asked. He closed his eyes and nodded. "Tell me to stop if I make you uncomfortable, okay?" She said quietly as she reached down to undo the button of his jeans. 

His breath hitched in anticipation at the sound of the zipper. She reached into the front of his boxers and started slowly rubbing and gently squeezing. His eyes were closed again and his breathing long and slow. 

He sat up and reached behind her, undoing the zipper at her back. Then he undid the latch of her bra and pulled it from her, dropping it in the floorboard. His mouth sought out her breasts, kissing her fair flesh. She gasped when his lips closed around a pert nipple. "Jim." She breathed. 

In a flurry of movements he was situated above her. She leaned up to kiss him as a nervous hand traveled up her thigh. She guided him under her dress to feel her wet cotton panties. "You really wanna do this Jim?" Asked quietly. He nodded before he reached down to kiss her. She shimmied out of her panties and tossed them aside, drawing her skirt up around her waist.

He slid into her as she kissed at his throat. He hissed at the new sensation. "You okay baby?" She asked, sliding her hands beneath his shirt and up his ribs. He nodded before leaning down to give her another heated kiss. He began rocking into her at a slow, steady pace as they traded kisses and little love bites. 

Joyce pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it aside before her hands gripped at his arms. His cross necklace dangled around his neck and danced across her breast with every movement they made. "Faster baby. Don't be scared. Love me." She said as he moved in for another kiss. 

They came together, a panting sweaty mess in the cab of the truck. "Oh Jim!" Joyce gasped as she hung onto his neck. When they parted, he sat back behind the steering wheel and tucked himself back into his pants. Joyce hurriedly got back into her underclothes and righted her dress, trying to smooth out wrinkles.

She was startled when he opened the door and slid outside on his knees. "Jim!?" She realized what he was doing when he bowed his hands and bowed his head. 

"Jim are you seriously praying right now?" She said, dumbfounded. She exited the truck and rounded it to kneel beside him in the dirt. She snaked and arm around his waist and bowed her own head. She didn't much believe in religion, so she focused her thoughts on what just happened and the feelings that stirred in here when it came to Jim Hopper. 

She smoothed a hand down his wet, bare back. "Jim, don't feel guilty. Jim, you deserve love too."


	5. Lullabye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mysteries arise when Jimand Joyce begin going through aunt Delia's possessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! This one is a challenge because my stories are usually so romance driven and this one has another focus building. I've been going though a (solo) writers block the last few months too without taking time to write on my own. But here's to hoping that changes soon!

They were laying in bed when Joyce asked the question that had been bothering her. 

"Hop, why wasn't your mother at the funeral?" 

He thought about it for a few minutes. "My Mom and Aunt Delia never really got along. No one would ever tell me why. She trusted her enough to deal with her wild son, but that was the extent of it." 

"You weren't wild!" Joyce protested with a laugh. "God what did your Mom think of me?" 

"Mom didn't know you very well!" He teased. 

They lay in bed in silence for a while.

"Well I guess we'd better get up. I'm supposed to help Aunt Tilly go through the things in Aunt Delia's room today. It's decided most of her stuff is going up in an estate sale, but they want me to see if there's anything I want first." 

"Your aunt never had children?" She knew the answer to that but she never understood why. 

"No. Far as I knew, Aunt Delia never had any suitors of any kind. At least not during my life time. She's been single my whole life. So She treated me like her son when I was here." 

"Suitors." Joyce chuckled. "Ya hick." 

Soon they were dressed and arrived at Delia's house, Jim rifling through Delia's possessions with a sort of holy reverence. Everything he handled carefully as Joyce sat on the foot of her bed. 

When she thought about it, her skin crawled. She could feel the weight of the corpse she had seen in this bed. Felt the frail old woman's presence in the middle of the bed. So she slid to the floor beside Hop. 

There were stacks and stacks and stacks of paper. Receipts for everything. Seemingly every greeting card she had ever received.

"When I was a kid we'd stand these cards up on the table and I'd pretend to be a shop keeper and she would pretend to buy them from me." He said. "She used to fill pill bottles with coins and I'd play pharmacist." Joyce smiled and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Those are sweet memories, Hop." 

He made his way through the possessions, finding several interesting pictures. Young Delia and Tilly posing with Delia's first car, according to the inscription on the back. A tin type of Hop's great grandfather. 

Something yellowish white caught Joyce's attention. The drawer they were going through was at eye level and Joyce could see just above the back wall over the drawer into the darkness of the inside of the drawer where the white corner poked up. 

"What are you doing?" Jim asked as she stood on her knees to remove the drawer. From behind it dropped a photo. "Oh, It must have fallen out of the drawer above it." He said as he gently picked up the photo that had fallen his lap. 

It was black and white and old, the photo worm and yellowed at the corners. The surface had what looked like water marks across it. Delia was leaned against a car with a man, wearing the warmest, most sincere smile Jim had ever seen on her. She looked so beautiful, wearing a sundress with her coal black hair pinned back beneath a broad sun hat. The man was good looking, cleanly shaven and wearing a suit. 

Jim flipped it over and only a name was written on the back. He recognized it was Delia's handwriting. Rev. Beau. 

"Wonder who this guys was?" 

"Looks like Delia had a boyfriend after all." Joyce said.

"That says Reverned. Maybe he was her preacher." 

"Boyfriend. You don't smile that way at your preacher." Joyce joked. 

 

.  
Soon the photo of the Reverend was stuck in Delia's book of hymnals and all but forgotten about as they continued going through her things. Joyce tried on a silver sapphire ring and held her hand out with fingers spread to admire it. 

"That looks pretty on you." Jim said, looking over his shoulder at her. "Tilly and Edith have first dibs on the jewelry though. Some things were promised to them."

"What a shame." Joyce sighed. "We could run off to the court house and you could slide this on my finger. Say I dos and live the rest of our lives under Spanish moss."

Jim didn't know which part of the sentence shocked him more. The fact she thought of marrying him or that she didn't absolutely detest this place. 

"Don't look so shocked. I could live in a big house like this with you." She smiled warmly as she took off the ring and passed it to him to put back in the box. He smiled back at her and moved over to kneel. He reached for her hand. She laughed and shook her head. "Nah, that takes all the surprise out of it Hop. You gotta surprise a girl! Sweep her off her feet, country boy." He smiled and rolled his eyes, moving back to sit and go through the mirrored jewelry box Joyce had been in. The bottom was stuck closed. He pulled the ribbon and tugged until their was a pulling sound and the card stock bottom came up. 

"Secret treasure?" Joyce asked, only half hopeful. 

Jim pulled out two thin pieces of yellow material. He unfolded one and discovered it was a child's sock, as was the other. Jim shot Joyce a puzzled look. 

"I thought you said she never had children." 

"She didn't." He replied. "She loved me so much, maybe they were mine." 

"They don't usually dress baby boys in yellow, Hop."

"True." He replied. He picked up a tiny beaded bracelet with pink beads and letter beads spelling the name Anderson. 

"Whose last name is Anderson?" She asked. 

"Beats me. I'll ask my Aunts."

 

.  
Jim brought the jewelry box downstairs with him to dinner. Tilly and Edith said they didn't know of any children with the last name Anderson. 

"Probably just a neighborhood child." Edith explained.

"She minded chillin for the neighborhood." Tilly added. 

Joyce detected a hint of sorrow in both of their faces. They knew more than what they were saying, that was for sure. 

Soon the discussion turned to happy memories of Delia over their dinner and the baby items lay in the bottom of the jewelry box where Hop had discovered them and the mysterious Reverend Beau forgotten in the book of hymnals. 

 

.


	6. Cry baby, cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A forgotten possession leads to a spooky experience

Delia's house was somber and quiet, as if the house itself was mourning. Joyce secretly wished they could have stayed at Tilly's tiny home with it's homely charm. Delia's home was like a shell, cold and lonely without the lady of the house. 

Jim had tried to give her a few of Delia's nicer things. Vintage accessories, fine niceties and trinkets but she took nothing, feeling odd at the idea of taking something that had belonged to someone who she only had a connection to in the moments before her death. 

For what she could piece together from the old woman's belongings and her family's stories, Delia had had a relatively comfortable life despite having no love life to speak of and no children. Tilly insisted that Delia had absolutely doted on Jim during the summers he had stayed with her and his visits were a highlight in all their lives. 

"Hey, Hop." Joyce said as he was busy looking through yet another pile of papers. "Look." 

She held up a tiny baby dress. "Do you think she ever planned on having kids or something?" 

He shrugged. "Like my aunts said, she did baby sit. I suppose she wanted to have babies but something must have happened. No one will talk about it, but I think she must have been infertile or something." He replied.

\---  
Jim was sitting in a semi-circle of papers, pictures, receipts, letters, and newspaper clippings. Joyce was bored out of her mind, having done nothing but go through Delia's letters and the yellowed newspaper clippings. Even her letters held no real excitement, just boring day to day life of semi-wealthy socialites. The hot gossip was boring by today's standards.

"How come her life took such a turn, Jim?" Joyce asked. "From her pictures it seemed like a real party girl in her twenties then all of a sudden things just kind of stop being exciting. People who wrote sounded like it was nearly a chore to write her. Like they were just trying to be nice. People keep expression sympathies, but for what? No one ever says why they are sad." 

"I dunno, no one ever talks about her life before I came along. I don't know what, but there's some kind of big secret that's no one cares to talk about." He said. "I kind of hope I'll come across the answer here somewhere in this pile of papers."

Joyce lifted an ancient yellow newspaper article, it's edges curled and tearing. 

"Hey Jim, what's Cry Baby bridge?" 

\--

The trucks headlights illuminated a decaying old bridge. 

"People don't actually use this anymore, do they?" Joyce asked, surveying the decaying old concrete.

"God no, this one went out of commission when they built a new one I like...the 50's?" Jim said. "Roll the window down, ya big chicken!" 

"I can't believe I let you bring me down here! You sure you've never heard it before?" She said, sweating in the cab of the old truck but refusing to roll her window down.

"I've been here several times and never heard the baby. Seriously, I think someone just heard a bob cat out here once and it just snowballed. 

"Seriously, a bob cat sounds like a crying baby?" 

"Or a screaming woman." Hop answered, matter-of-factly.

"That's not very comforting either." 

"Seriously, roll your window down!" Jim grinned. "Don't be a chicken!" 

Joyce rolled her window down a fraction of an inch and shrunk back against her door when Jim rolled his all the way down. The air was thick and heavy with humidity and sitting still felt like sitting in a puddle of sweat. The cicadas stood out in a symphony of animal sounds. 

"This is cool and all but let's go back to Delia's okay?" She said, unnerved, as she stared straight ahead at the bridge. She let out a scream when something brushed her elbow and Jim guffawed, holding his chest as he relished in giving her a fright. 

Joyce yelped and pelted his upper arm with her tiny fists. "Jim you fucking jerk!" 

He wiped at his eyes, having laughed so hard he began crying. "That's all this place is! A place for guys to scare people! It's not haunted at all!" 

"You are a jerk! You brought me all the way out here to scare me!" She fumed. 

His laughing had died down to a chuckle when she slapped his arm. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry!" "No, shut up! Listen!" 

There was a rustling sound in the water and Joyce's hand tightened in his forearm. "Probably a gator, all sorts of stuff does bump in the night around here." Jim said. 

"That doesn't sound big enough to be a gator."

"Baby gator?" He grinned. "Smart ass!" "Seriously, it's probably a fish! Some sort of animal."

Jim's arm stiffened under her grip when the wails began. "Fuck!" Jim whispered as the cries intensified. "Fuck that really does sound like a baby!" 

"That's no fucking bob cat." Joyce stammered. "Jim, I'm scared! This isn't funny!" 

The baby cries sounded frantic and strangled as the splashing intensified. Jim tried to crank the truck up but save for the click of the accelerator, the old truck refused to start. "Jim!" Joyce said, frantic. She scooted across the bench seat and buried herself in his side, her face buried in his shirt. 

Jim's eyes scanned the edges of the sight provided by the headlights, at the dark water surrounding the bridge. The water was calm and glassy, undisturbed but the sound of the water was dying down, the baby's cries silenced. 

Jim tried the truck again and it miraculously started. He did the quickest three point turn imaginable and got them out of there. 

"Oh my god it's real!" He said loudly over the rush of the air from the open windows. "It's real! Everywhere has a bridge or something where a baby drowned. I thought it was just old folk tales!" 

"I heard it just as much as you did!" Joyce said, on the verge of frantic tears. "Oh my god! Please Jim I can't go back to Delia's empty old house after that. Please let's go to Tilly's! I'm so scared!" 

Jim grinned with the adrenaline of being scared. "Yeah! I have to tell her about this!"


End file.
